What If You Never Come Down?
by FeliksFreedomFighter
Summary: In the middle of the night it feels all right, but then tomorrow morning... Is it possible for Charles to end Erik's nightmares? X-Men: First Class fic
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Not much graphic slash here, really, so if you're looking for p0rn you won't find it in this story (mainly because I can't write it). Yeah but it is slashy. Some fluff and some angst. There will be two chapters, and second one will have even more angst. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, only my fantasy~_

A night

Charles Xavier woke up in the middle of the night. Insomnia was a common thing for him, and then, even if lack of sleep made him all tired and nervous in the morning, he liked to just stand by the window and take care of all people dreaming in his house at the moment. Moon was shining with its cold light, and there was a peaceful silence over the grassy fields outside. This view reminded him of fairy tales, which he used to read over and over again when he was a child: about good fairies and magicians who used their spells or played music, or sometimes just watched sleeping orphans carefully – all of these to create most wonderful dreams and chase the nightmares away.

Tonight, after long afternoon of training, most of his friends didn't have any dreams at all. Only Mystique was troubled with some very twisted surrealistic love-story; Charles wanted to help her with an artificial "injection" of warm feelings, but decided it would be better to ignore her as her dream revealed very personal feelings towards two of his fellow mutants. He didn't want to be nosy, really.

And then Charles felt, that the obligatory hard moments of this night are close. Something like a shower of awful emotions, leaving him trembling and painful, like diving in water too cold and too hot at the same time. Shouts and anger; refined and rough tortures; an overwhelming desire to make someone suffer; the deepest despair Charles could imagine. And above all of it, the fear. Unmistakeable fear of losing the only important person in someone's life.

These were the nightmares of Erik Lensherr.

Charles was scared by them every night, they left him exhausted and vulnerable. He could escape it very easily, if he only avoided getting close to Erik's mind. But for some reason he wouldn't do that, on the contrary - he would go through the same pain again and again, trying to look normal at Erik in the morning, not doing anything to change the situation. The other thing that scared him was an effect, that the mere presence of Erik had on him: only extraordinary mental abilities prevented Charles from doing something really stupid – making overdramatic scenes or just, well, showing his feelings. And he had a lot of them.

This night, however, he decided that the times are changing, and not only in the world of great politics. After the nightmare reached its climax – a particulary long scene with tragically skinny people digging graves and then a hospital and a German doctor, not Shaw this time, but another doctor with young handsome face (Charles knew, that he was the infamous Angel of Death, Josef Mengele) and a gap between his front teeth and his wide grin and then fragile hands of little Erik trying to fight against metal medical tools, so much unruly metal, why Erik is so helpless – Charles did his best to focus and recalled a pleasant memory of Raven's funny tricks, when she would mimic famous actors or politicians. He remembered how the adult Erik chuckled at this display, his slender palms covering his smile.

Abruptly the dream finished. Charles realised that Erik is awaken, and immediately imagined him rubbing his eyes, flushed, breathing fast, tangled in white sheets, reaching for a glass of water with shaking hands…

"What are you doing, Charles?"

Charles blinked twice. Uh-oh. He didn't expect that Erik would feel his mental presence. Well, maybe he was too, erm, intensive with these thoughs about blushing ears, cheeks and neck, blushing… and the startled gaze of bright eyes, which…

"Charles, stop it. Don't think I can't feel it. I don't understand, what you are trying to say, but for some reason I feel really weird."

"I'm sorry" – after several deep breaths he was finally able to send a proper information – "I detected your nightmare and so I tried to help you… eh, to calm your mind."

"Yeah I realised. Did you see my dream?"

"N-no… Not clearly."

"Good… Please, don't try to help me again, okay?"

Charles was speechless for a while.

"But, why? I mean, you woke up –"

"That doesn't mean I have forgotten."

There was another moment of silence, and then a blank mental message from Erik:

"Good night, Charles. See you at breakfast."

"No! Wait! I insist, Erik, that you should come here and talk with me and –"

"I would like it more if you came to my room."

"Okay", responded Charles after quick consideration, "okay. Expect me in two minutes."

XXX

A silent walk through empty corridors helped Charles regain control over his emotions. When Erik opened the door of his room, he saw an elegant man in a light sweater and carefully ironed trousers; perfect hairstyle, faint smile on his lips: professor Xavier.

Erik himself was wearing pyjama shorts, which were rather too big for him, and a black unbuttoned shirt. Charles tried very hard to avoid blushing. He failed.

"Hello, Erik…"

"Um, hi, Charles, please– please come in" said Erik, his voice much more trembling than earlier in professor's mind. "Would you like some water?"

"Yes, thank you…" – Charles observed Erik's hands, which were shaking when he brought an additional glass from the bathroom. These appeared to be really fine hands, strong, with long fingers; yet Charles had an impression that they were powerless, as Erik moved them slowly and absent-mindedly over table's surface.

So professor grabbed Erik's hand and asked quickly, "Why don't you want me to help you, my friend?"

"I want you to help me" – Erik gently squeezed Charles' fingers – "but not with my nightmares. These memories are now a part of me."

It was hard for Charles to just listen, while Erik was standing in front of him, so tormented, so tired, so beautiful. "In a perfect world everyone would love his beauty, like I do" he thought, carefully and silently, so Erik couldn't see even a slightest change in his face expression. Well, maybe Charles' hand touch got a little warmer - but Erik spoke further and his voice was louder than before.

"I wish you would finally understand, that mutants and humans won't live in peace forever. One day, when there will be no reason to cooperate with us, their governments will spread propaganda of hate and fear. I've already seen this before and I know, how it looks like… when you're an outcast. But I am not a helpless boy anymore and I will be even stronger, ready for these hard times to come. Then you'll have to help me with your talent and intelligence, and I will protect you."

"I don't need protection" said Charles, looking sharply with his blue eyes into Erik's steely ones, their pupils extremely wide in the poor light.

"Yes, you do" whispered Erik and, closing swifly the distance between them, kissed him on the lips.

This was just too much for Charles – feeling Erik's mouth on his own, Erik's hand embracing him, the other one stroking his hair – and he leaned into the kiss, making it much more sensual than Erik intended to.

"I will never let you go" he muttered desperately as Erik stopped kissing him just to take a breath.

Erik smiled, with his heart-melting smile, and said (before Charles managed to kiss him again) "Just don't make me leave you. And I think you should stop saying this lovely words, and looking at me this way, and t-touching… because I'm so not used to such happiness… that it may actually hurt me –"

"So prepare to be killed by happiness" laughed Charles, leading Erik to his unmade bed, completely smitten by his unexpected clumsiness. He wanted to shower his friend with pleasure and love, all these feelings that would make him forget long hours of nightmares and make his dreams come true (even the weirdest – Charles blushed as he explored them in Erik's mind). "Here is my fairy tale" he thought with a bittersweet irony, maybe a little too _loud_, because Erik chuckled and unzipped Charles' trousers and then it was just sweetness and sweat, no bitter memories, and actually no thinking at all –


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Here comes the angst! But first, thank you for all comments and favourites for my short story. Your feedback is really appreciated 3_

_This part is the last one, and it's Erik's POV. It's also short and may be quite messy, but remember he's not a native speaker of English ;)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I like Bakunin lol_

A day

The daylight so bright. Eyes hurt and there's exhaustion and this odd warmth next to me: pale skin, soft brown hair, soft pink lips – Charles?...

Oh. Charles. You, my… Now I remember. I remember everything and I almost blush and I smile immediately because it's just surreal.

Oh, Charles. People like you find it easy, walking on air… But for me it's something new – or very, very old – and I'm not talking about the desire, this I see quite often in eyes of girls looking at me. This, or admiration. But usually fear. Charles isn't afraid of me and he will never be, as long he can read my mind.

For some reason I keep getting mental image of him wearing only my shorts – which are _much_ too big for him so he has to hold them – when he returns from his room and giggles, because he brought a gun – the very same that I tried to use in training – and points it at me, saying 'See, now it's my turn to get a blowjob' - and I say 'OH MY GOD, no, just oh no not the metal bullets' and it would be really so lame if it wasn't _our_ night. Our Fucking Night Together. Our Night of Fucking Together, duh. My lips may be swollen now and various parts of my body hurt for various reasons – but I want to wake him up by screaming 'Ich bin so froh! Verstehst du, Charles?' and see his awkward face expression and kiss him before I start to be really creepy with my German and my wide grin... so I would kiss him very quickly.

And then I realise that I don't have to say anything, because he knows all my feelings and thoughts. He knows everything. Charles, how is it possible, that you see these horrible things in my mind and you still like… love me? What if one day I become too angsty, too obsessed, and you will decide that you can't bear it any longer?

Suddenly I hear a very quiet melody. When I was younger it was the most beautiful thing I could imagine, hearing a song, lovely, but so distant, that it wasn't entirely clear… I was quite religious – when I was younger. But then, later, I realised, that I wouldn't hear any melodies after I die. Then it will be a great silence, because we're only animals. Once I saw a picture of Himmler, dead after he committed a suicide – "we're only animals" was all that I could say. We want to be loved, but we are afraid. People, who feel loved, are happy, and good. People, who are afraid, the unhappy, can kill, and rape, and hurt little orphans, which will have to live with their fear all their life.

I started to kill. I didn't change much since the war ended. And one day I was strong enough to kill, and that wasn't a problem.

But I know, that I will never be entirely happy. Charles wouldn't understand. Maybe he looks at me and really admires me, and I do the same, but when I see his beautiful eyes I can't forget that someday this eyes will close, and no matter how much I love him – I would never be able to bring this wonderful man back to life.

I could not be a writer. All I can write is "When I die, don't forget me!" – and then I can't explain, why. Why should I be unforgettable. Because of that, I don't care when I'm in danger. I am quite meaningless, really. But Charles? I'll try to protect him, but I will be afraid that something happens to him all my bloody life, every minute, every second, and how can I live with something like that!

'You're not meaningless', I hear his calm voice, 'and don't be afraid.'

Easy to say, I think.

'I'm not afraid', I whisper.

'You lie' – he smiles and touches my hand, and kisses me gently on the lips. His ears are bright pink in the sunlight.

'Sometimes I wish you couldn't read my mind…'

'…because you want to lie?' – he ends my sentence, and looks in my eyes, his pretty eyelashes so close to my pale worried face.

'I want you to believe, that you can resolve my inner conflicts' I have to admit. There's no way to hide my thoughts.

'But they won't be resolved until you believe they can be' – well, he makes a good point.

A long kiss.

I'm so predictable. The poor hopeless creature I am and I will always be. You better leave me alone, Charles. So I can kill again and die myself one day, and I should die alone.

'I won't leave you…'

Yes, you will. But now, for this little moment, let us forget. Let your warm mouth kiss me again, lower and lower. Just for this little moment let me be happy.

Until you leave me.


End file.
